


Matthieu

by hybridempress



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybridempress/pseuds/hybridempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis becomes excited when he hears that his former colony is coming to visit him. However, his mood quickly turns sour when he finds out that Matthew has only come to see him to blame him for the American Revolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matthieu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exclusivelyforhetalia](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=exclusivelyforhetalia).
  * Inspired by [This comic](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/129284) by exclusivelyforhetalia. 



Francis was, for lack of a better word, excited. He was nervous. His body wouldn't stop tingling. There were butterflies in his stomach. The very core of his being was alive with the feelings of absolute joy and pure terror at the same time. He'd been waiting for this day for _years._ Now, it was finally upon him, but he knew that the outcome would not be predictable in the slightest.

When Francis had heard that Matthew was coming to see him, he wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand, he was ecstatic that he was going to get to see the boy that he still thought of as a son for the first time in longer than he could remember. On the other hand, that boy was now under the influence of the British Empire, and the American Revolution had ended not long ago. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Matthew was coming to see him now, of all times.

Still, Francis was hoping for the best. He would keep things casual, at least for as long as he could. He wouldn't say a word about the topic that he was dreading unless Matthew himself brought it up. Maybe they would just have a day to catch up with each other. Maybe Matthew would tell Francis that he missed him. It was a far fetched dream. Francis knew that. But then again, he had always been a dreamer.

His clothing was kept casual, or, as casual as a nice suit could be. He kept his hair tied back in a low ponytail with a blue satin ribbon. He was clean-shaven that day. He wanted to make a good impression on the boy, after all. But then, when had his looks ever disappointed? 

Looks weren't important right now, though. What was important was that he waited patiently in his parlor until the butler showed Matthew in. When he sat down in his favorite chair, and began his wait for the former French colony to enter the parlor through the door that was directly in front of him, a knot formed in his stomach. The nervousness was overtaking the elation in him. He was now, more than anything, frightened.

There was a knock on the parlor door. Francis was shaken from his thoughts and stared at the door, almost eagerly. "Come in," he urged, and waited for the door to open.

Moments later, the door to the parlor was opened, and Matthew stood in the doorway. The butler was standing behind him. "Here you are, Monsieur Kirkland," he said. The name made Francis flinch internally, but Matthew didn't seem to be bothered by it at all.

"Thank you. You may leave us now," Matthew said softly. The butler nodded before taking his leave.

Matthew closed the door and entered the room further. He stood in front of Francis and stared at him with an unreadable expression. Despite the fact that there were emotions that Francis could not decipher in Matthew's face, he knew at least that Matthew was not happy to see him in the slightest, and that fact was enough to make Francis' heart shatter.

Even so, Francis smiled warmly at his former colony, though he did not stand from his chair. "My, my, look how you've grown, _mon Lis..._ You've turned into such a handsome man. I'm so happy to see you again," he said, giving Matthew a head-to-toe once-over. He looked so much like Francis. It made Francis proud.

"Cut the shit, France. I don't have time for formalities today. I came here to talk about one thing, and one thing only," Matthew hissed. 

Francis felt a stabbing pain in his gut. Matthew's voice was so cold; so vengeful. He hadn't even used Francis' first name. He had just said France. There was no kindness or familiarity in his tone at all. Only anger.

Francis' face fell. He leaned back in his chair and swallowed thickly before looking at Matthew again. "Oh, and what would that be, my boy?" he enticed. 

"How could you hurt him like that!?" Matthew demanded. 

Oh. So this was about the Revolution after all. Of course. How could Francis have been so stupid? He hadn't seen Matthew in longer than he could remember. Why would this have been a friendly visit? How could it have been?

"I'm not quite sure I understand," Francis said, his expression becoming more even as he continued to stare at Matthew. It was a blatant lie, of course. Francis knew exactly what Matthew was talking about, but his defensive nature was kicking in now. If Matthew was fully on Britain's side now, there was no harm in playing with him a little.

"How could you hurt Arthur like that!? How could you have aided in such- Such treachery!?" Matthew asked furiously.

"My boy, I did not hurt-"

"Yes! Yes you did! Alfred would have never done it if you hadn't helped him! If he wasn't strong enough to fight for himself then he shouldn't have been allowed independence! It's all your fault! Alfred's gone and it's because of you! My brother's on his own because of you! My family is broken because of _you!_ You ruined _everything!_ " Matthew shouted.

Francis' lips curled into a satisfied smirk. A soft but somewhat terrifying chuckle escaped from the back of his throat. The sound of it gave Matthew goosebumps. He'd never seen Francis with an expression like that before. He'd never felt such a spiteful aura come from someone. It was downright creepy, and in all the worst ways. 

"I was getting even, _mon cher,_ " he purred softly. His voice was barely above a whisper. He clenched his hands into fists when he realized that they were shaking. Matthew noticed it, too, but he said nothing. He continued to stare at Francis as the Frenchman's smirk grew ever more prominent on his scarily confident face. 

"He took something precious from me, so I took something precious from him." He was trying so hard to keep his voice even, and to keep the smirk on his face. 

He fought back tears as he remembered the day that Matthew was torn from his arms by Britain, when Francis was far too weak to fight back. He remembered the look of triumph on the Empire's face as he watched Francis lay in the dirt, too weak to move; to try to get his baby back. The thought of it made Francis want to puke.

Well, if Francis couldn't have Matthew, then Arthur couldn't have Alfred. It was as simple as that. In the end, that really was the only reason that Francis had helped Alfred. It was part of the longest war in Earth's history. The battle between the Kingdom of France and the British Empire would never cease. Francis had the ultimate revenge now. Britain had taken Francis' baby from him. Now, Francis had helped Britain's baby leave him. 

While Francis was managing to hold back his own tears, Matthew was not doing so well. His body had begun to shake. He balled his hands into fists. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to deliver a blow to the Frenchman's smug face. Unfortunately, Matthew had something with him that could hurt Francis worse than any bruise would: Words. 

"I hate you," he hissed.

With those three words, the walls that Francis had built up came crashing down. Hearing them, from Matthew especially, felt like taking a bullet straight to the heart. Francis could have sworn that he had stopped breathing for a moment, and that his heart had stopped pumping. The tears he had been holding back were starting to pool up now.

"Matthieu!" he shouted, bringing his fist down on the arm of his chair.

The difference in the way that Francis said his name versus the way that Arthur said it would have been barely noticeable to anyone else, but to Matthew, it was crystal clear. And he hated it. He hated it so much.

"Don't call me that! My name is Matthew! Matthew Kirkland! And _I hate you!_ " Matthew screamed.

Both the tears of Francis and Matthew had begun to stream down their faces like waterfalls by this point. Francis gripped the arms of his chair tightly as his hands continued to shake, more violently than before. Matthew kept saying those horrible words over and over again, as if he were incapable of saying anything else. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..." Eventually, Francis couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up!!" he roared, standing up from his chair and squaring Matthew up. Matthew didn't even look at him.

"H-how will Arthur ever love me now, wh-when I have the same face as the man who betrayed him...?" he whispered, his voice shaking. 

"Arthur will never love you, Matthieu! He took you away from me and pretended to love you so that he could brainwash you into thinking that he was someone great, but I know who he really is! He wanted you to use against _me!_ The only person he truly cares about is himself! Maybe he really did love Alfred, maybe Alfred was the one exception, but he never has and he never will care about _you!_ " Francis yelled.

Matthew's mouth dropped open. "Sh-shut up... Y-you don't know what you're saying, o-of course Arthur cares about me..." he protested, backing away from Francis slightly. 

"No he doesn't Matthieu! He took you away from me because I loved you! I loved you as if you were my own son! You were the most important thing in the world to me, and he took you from me to watch me suffer! A-and now I know that he has won, th-that I will never have the revenge against him that I want, because he has taken you and turned you against me to the point where you probably don't even remember the time when you were torn from my arms, kicking and screaming because you didn't want to go with Arthur! But _I_ remember! I remember it all! It's been burned into the center of my mind and it will never go away, ever! But as of now, I will hold love for you no longer! You are not my son, nor will you ever be my son, and I never want to see your face again, is that clear!?" 

There was silence between them. Matthew's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. The two of them stared at each other, still crying, while Francis panted and tried to catch his breath after the tirade he had just been on. Five whole minutes passed before Matthew tried to break the silence.

"F-Francis, I-"

"Don't speak to me. You are to leave my home at once, Monsieur Kirkland. And you can tell your father that he's won."

Without another word, Francis shoved Matthew aside and left the room. Matthew wanted to follow him, to say something that would mend the damage that he knew he had done to his former caretaker, but it was too late. The damage was irreversible, and now, Matthew felt even more alone than he had when he had arrived at the Frenchman's home that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic number 5 for aph France Week! O:
> 
> Yet again more pain and misery, based off of a comic by exclusivelyforhetalia uvu you bet your ass as soon as I saw the comic I needed to write a fic for it! The comic made me cry... I hope I did it Justice...
> 
> Hope you guys like it O:


End file.
